Temporary Arrangements
by LovingWestwood
Summary: Sebastian moves in with Moriarty and their relationship turns from distant and professional to friendly and a little too close. This is my first attempt at writing something a little longer and more meaningful so comments and reviews are very much appreciated.
1. Prologue

"Sir, he wants to talk to you."

"Hello… Yes… Hmm… Yes, well unfortunately he's _not_ interested… No, he's not in the market… Ahahaha, I see… Come on, even you've got to admit that's just _childish_… Oh, of course I do… Till then!"

"What was that about?"

* * *

"Please tell me you're going to change into something nicer for when he gets here."

"We'll see."

"Where do you want me to put these, Sir?"

"Somewhere where I'll find them. You know, I really don't appreciate you moving everything around."

"It's called _tidying_, Sir."

"Well stop, you're being an utter nuisance."

"You can't have an employee thinking you live like this, you have an image to upkeep."

"May I remind you that it was you who decided he should come here, and upon making that decision you knew fully well how I live."

"Well it's your fault his flat got blown up so you should deal with the consequences, Sir. And anyway I assumed you'd straighten this place up a bit."

"How was I supposed to know Hughes would go through with his threat?"

* * *

Sebastian yawned, setting his coffee down on the table and pulling a book out of his rucksack. It was one of those post-mission moments when Moriarty hadn't yet contacted him as it was far too early in the morning so he had a little while to himself to just sit and enjoy a cup of coffee like a normal human being before going to sleep for the next three days straight. He'd been up for the most part of the past 57 hours and his body begged him to go home and crawl into bed, however he chose instead to slouch in this wobbly plastic chair and watch the world go by. He liked taking his time whenever he had the chance to do so, taking great pleasure from all the little moments that most people took for granted. He liked watching them bustle about, complaining about the early start to the day, moaning about the weather, and whining about how Friday felt so far away.

Starbucks. Not a very unique choice but at least it was fairly quiet this morning. He'd picked up a book at the train station in Bristol but fallen asleep on the train without even opening it. So now he treated himself to a coffee with a very imaginative name and book that everybody was talking about but didn't live up to the hype. He sipped his coffee, making the most of this rare opportunity to indulge in such a mundane luxury.

Sebastian opened the book at Chapter One and made it all the way to page nine before his phone loudly reminded him that really he couldn't afford to sit around pretending to lead a normal life.

_-There was an explosion at your flat while you were away. You'll be staying with me (in the guest room of course, don't get any ideas) until we find you a new place – JM xx_

Oh. Sebastian wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to something like that. It was completely out of the blue and he was far too exhausted to care. In all honesty he wasn't that fussed; he didn't own the place, nor was he particularly attached to it. Moriarty arranged accommodation for all his men so he didn't even have to pay the rent. Even so, he wasn't too keen on the idea of staying in Moriarty's house and being put under a magnifying glass. Having his boss know all his bad habits could hardly be a good thing, and he didn't feel comfortable with idea of having to play the role of obedient employee 24/7. He could very easily lose his job as a result of this.

It was moments like this that left Sebastian feeling jealous of everyone who had a family. This was definitely one of the downsides to being an only child; since his parents had disowned him after his dishonourable discharge he had no one to turn to in moments of need. Well, that's pretty much how he wound up with this job in the first place. Sebastian briefly considered calling up an ex-girlfriend and rekindling a relationship with her in order to have a place to stay, but upon remembering her obsession with dieting and healthy eating he decided against it. He did not want to go through the whole cabbage and grapefruit thing again. Why couldn't he just bunk with one of the other men for a bit? Then again if they all lived in studio flats like he had it might get a bit crowded. But why did he have to move in with his boss? Was there really no alternative?

Suddenly his book didn't seem so interesting anymore and he proceeded to check his e-mail. Sure enough he had one unread message from Sophie, a woman who acted as Moriarty's mock secretary when she wasn't busy running the UK's shadiest adoption agency and raising her own two kids.

* * *

From: Sophie Ashfordly

To: Sebastian Moran

Subject: Living Arrangements

Date: 23 September 23:42

Dear Sebastian Moran,

I regret to inform you that an unfortunate incident has taken place at your property in White City. I assure you that we are searching for a new apartment for you; however in the mean time you have been offered temporary accommodation at Mr Moriarty's premises where you may reside until further notice. We hope you are satisfied with this arrangement, however if you have any questions or complaints these will be dealt with upon your arrival at your new address. Please contact me when you return to London and I shall send a car to collect you.

With kind regards,

Sophie Ashfordly

On behalf of James Moriarty

* * *

Bloody fantastic. He'd half been hoping it was some sort of joke. But no. Sebastian leaned back in his chair, exasperated and too tired to be thinking about these things. He turned back to his phone and began half-heartedly jabbing the touchscreen with his calloused fingers.

* * *

From: Sebastian Moran

To: Sophie Ashfordly

Subject: RE: Living Arrangements

Date: 24 September 07:24

Am at Paddington station.

Seb

* * *

The reply came before he even had time to sip his fancy coffee. Sophie had always been extremely helpful; ever ready to offer the men advice to guide them through their complicated assignments, even going so far as to arrange medical care whenever someone got themselves badly injured during a mission. He found it rather strange that such a kind woman worked for Moriarty, although she was very efficient.

* * *

From: Sophie Ashfordly

To: Sebastian Moran

Subject: RE: RE: Living Arrangements

Date: 24 September 07:25

Stay put, I'll have someone come and pick you up.

Sophie

* * *

Fifteen minutes later a smartly dressed man sat down opposite Sebastian greeting him with a subtle nod. Sebastian recognised him; they'd been on a few assignments together and once shared a taxi to Islington when a mission went awry and their target slipped through their fingers resulting in a ridiculously slow chase across the city during rush hour. They walked out of the station and into the car park where a black plain-looking car was waiting for them. Sebastian sat in the back with his colleague and the vehicle smoothly pulled away.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when his friend nudged him to wake him up as the car slowed to a halt and dropping him off along a relatively quiet road. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't this ordinary street. Everybody knew Moriarty wasn't in it for the money but surely he could've chosen somewhere grander to live. There was nothing all that distinguishable about the place besides the fact that it looked a little grotty and neglected. He glanced down at his phone, checking the address and walked cautiously over to a tall shabby building. He glanced at the list of names by the door not even bothering to check it. Moriarty wouldn't have his name scrawled outside his house.

Suddenly the door buzzed.

He pushed it open, his phone vibrating against his thigh as he did so.

-_Fifth floor – JM_

The walls of the entrance were a harsh white giving off a very unwelcoming vibe. He still had a hard time imagining Moriarty, the belligerent crime-lord, living _here_. He'd always imagined his boss living in an extravagant, over-the-top, mansion hidden in plain sight in the heart of London, right under the government's nose; not here in such an ordinary flat, it seemed far too plain and really didn't go along with Moriarty's image. Sebastian found himself wondering whether Moriarty paid taxes.

The lift doors smoothly opened at the fifth floor revealing his Boss. He stood, leaning against the wall in a two thousand pound suit. Sebastian did his best to remain composed, giving a quick nod and mumbling an uncertain "Sir" before stepping out of the lift.

"Sebastian! Glad you could make it. _Terribly _sorry about your flat." Moriarty exclaimed, as he ushered the sniper towards an open door near the lift.

"Sorry, Sir, there was a lot of traffic." He explained meekly, feeling very awkward as he entered the flat. It looked alright; dimly lit, cold, pale walls, white leather and dark wood furniture. But it seemed too organised to house such a chaotic man. Strange art hung on the walls; the kinds of paintings that make you want to kill a kitten and then drown yourself in melted plastic. The furniture all looked terribly expensive and out of place, standing proud on a carpet that looked far from its original colour whatever that may have been.

"Make yourself at home! Your room is just down that corridor." Moriarty said gesturing towards a white door that stood ajar and scratching the back of his head. "This is the living room, kitchen is through there, bathroom's over there, and that's my room." He concluded. So this wasn't even a very big apartment? Just your average two-bedroom flat? Sebastian stiffly walked over to his designated room, nudging the door further into the bleak looking bedroom. A wrought iron bed was set in the middle of the floor at the foot of which sat a large wooden chest. A heavy-looking wardrobe leant against the wall, and a desk sat below the window which looked over a narrow alleyway. He wondered why Moriarty had a guest room; did he have people round often? His exhaustion was catching up with him once again and the bed looked incredibly inviting.

However, he ignored the calling of the bed and returned to the living room to find Moriarty sprawled across the leather settee flicking through the channels on his flat screen TV. Despite looking so normal, just a guy at home watching telly, it seemed so unnatural for Moriarty to be like that.

"Sir?"

"Yes, pet?" His boss asked. Evidently whatever Sebastian had to say did not require Moriarty's full attention as he continued to switch from channel to channel without looking up,

"Er… what would you like me to do, Sir?" He asked awkwardly, feeling nine years old like a school boy at the headmaster's office.

"Well, what do you usually do after a mission?"

"Usually I sleep for a bit, Sir." He felt like a complete idiot.

"Well then sleep." Moriarty said, dismissing him with a wave of the remote,

"Yes. Thank you, Sir." He said, taking his leave.

"Oh before you go," Sebastian stopped in his tracks and turned to face his boss, "I was thinking of ordering Chinese tonight. Or would you prefer Indian?" Moriarty asked, his eyes now focused on the sniper, a bland expression upon his face.

"Chinese is fine, Sir." He said, a smile tugging at his lips.


	2. Chapter 1

Two weeks had passed. Sophie still hadn't found Sebastian a new flat as she had to go to China to sort out legal issues concerning three girls she was trying to fly over to the UK. During that time the flat began to feel more like home. After the first few days used mugs and plates began to gather in the sink, stacks of papers and documents took over the desk, half empty teacups doubled as ashtrays, Jim's clothes were hung off the backs of chairs, Sebastian's guns cluttered the coffee table, bottles of liquor sat beside the baked beans in the kitchen cupboard, Jim's shoes had taken over the hallway, and things were rarely put in their rightful places rather they were left on any available surface that was within reach.

Over those two weeks Sebastian had learnt to relax around his boss. It was hard to take the man too seriously after getting to know him so well, and most of the time when he was at home he looked too cuddly to be considered dangerous. Jim was definitely the most endearing criminal he'd ever come across, and he wasn't bad as a flatmate either. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable routine. Well, no. Their day to day life had no consistent structure whatsoever. But they had come to live well together. Sebastian had grown accustomed to Jim's dangerous mood swings and erratic behaviour. One moment he'd be a suave, belligerent crime lord, undeniably merciless and cruel; the next he'd be an affable t-shirts and jeans kind of guy, curled up on the sofa eating ice cream and watching Doctor Who; then all of a sudden he'd be a fidgety bag of neurosis, verging on insanity and completely unpredictable. And Sebastian had learnt to deal with all of that, taking it all in stride.

"Honey, I'm hooome!" The sniper yelled sarcastically into the empty flat, chucking his gear on the by the door along with his coat and switching the lights on, a cigarette held loosely between his lips. With a sigh he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers slip to the floor, stepping out of them as he made his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he stopped, inspecting the smear of blood on his forehead and smiling realising why that woman had been giving him funny looks on the tube. He licked his thumb and wiped it off, suddenly startled by a sharp knock at the door.

Sebastian went to let in a very peeved Jim. Not Moriarty, as he was far from being the professional criminal mastermind; but Jim, since he had reverted back to his usual, bitchy self.

He stormed into the flat, not even bothering to greet Sebastian which was a sure give away of his foul mood. The sniper supressed a smile, watching Jim furiously tear off his jacket and cast it on the floor, animatedly cursing the world with this thick Irish accent.

"It's _amazing_ how _difficult _it seems for some people to kill a man without turning the _whole_ room into a _blood bath_!" Jim exclaimed, seething mad, "If I say I want a _nice, clean kill_ why is it _so_ impossible to make it _a nice, clean kill_?" Sebastian liked it when Jim wore his suits. "Why is it _so_ impossible to follow simple orders? _No one_ does as I tell them to they're all _such idiots_!" He liked how the tailored suits fit his body, the way the fabric whispered softly with every movement making a loud statement of power as he paced across the room. "I _swear_ if he ever goes against orders like that again I'll have him killed!" He liked it how the suits meant war, how they meant that Jim would be radiating dominance when he got back to the flat. "Just _look_ at my shirt! These stains will _never _come out!" But most of all he liked it how when Jim got back he would take them off and change into jeans and a t-shirt and turn back into the Jim only he had the pleasure of knowing. "It was _brand new_ and now it's completely _ruined_!"

Ah. Sebastian was good at things like this.

"Jim." He said, bringing the brunette to a halt. He loved that he had the ability to do that; that he was able to make Jim snap out of his tantrums so easily. "I'll buy you a new one." He said simply, shrugging as though it was nothing.

A smile played across the brunette's features and he instantly relaxed.

"Have you had dinner?" Jim asked,

"No, I just got back."

"Good. I'm starving. Let's go."

"Sure, just let me put my trousers on."


	3. Chapter 2

"Sebastian, move." Jim commanded, padding into the bathroom wearing black slacks and a fresh white shirt. If Sebastian hadn't known better he'd have said Jim looked hung-over. He had dark circles under his eyes and didn't appear to be very well rested, which made the sniper wonder whether he had in fact slept at all, and his stubble was getting to the point where he couldn't put off shaving for another day. Based on his choice of clothing he was obviously going out to see a client; a rare occasion as Jim usually avoided meeting the people he worked with.

"Yeah, just a sec." Sebastian replied, toothbrush in mouth,

"Daddy's in a hurry, now _move_." Jim snapped, wedging himself between Sebastian and the sink and fumbling around with the shaving cream.

"Twat," Sebastian grumbled,

"You're fired." Jim retorted pettily, "Go away."

"As soon as I've brushed my teeth." Sebastian replied, enjoying the whole situation far more than he should. Getting on Jim's nerves was definitely one of his favourite pastimes nowadays.

Wait. Suddenly the sniper realised this was the first time he'd come into contact with his boss. There had never been any formal handshakes or pats on the back; this, having Jim shove up against him to get to the mirror at six o'clock in the morning, was the first time he'd actually physically touched him.

The realisation that Jim was this comfortable around him caught him completely by surprise and made a fond feeling swell in his chest. That he felt okay walking around looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock. That he felt there were no boundaries between them. As though it were perfectly normal for him to be right up against Sebastian; their bodies pressed together, the thin fabric of their shirts the only thing between them-

To his horror Sebastian felt his blood pool in his abdomen and he quickly stepped back allowing Jim all the space he could possibly want, realising he'd been brushing his teeth for far too long and hurriedly excusing himself.

He rushed into his room, getting changed and doing his best to forget the whole ordeal. Thankfully his phone offered him a distraction, beeping loudly to alert him that he had a message.

-_Laurence is filling in for you on the Roberts hit. You've got the day off – AH_

What the fuck? "You pulled me off the assignment?!" Sebastian asked, incredulity ringing clear in his tone as he stormed back into the bathroom. He felt genuinely hurt, suddenly afraid that spending so much time with his boss really was having a negative effect on his career as this was clearly a punishment.

Sebastian had been looking forward to the Roberts hit all week. Daniel Roberts was one of the unfortunate men to earn himself a place on Jim's black list which meant he was given to Jim's men to torture as they pleased. It was an opportunity for them to unleash their imaginations and get creative with killing him; it was an outlet for their sadistic urges. A way to make up for all the waiting and sitting around that was involved in the regular 'point and shoot' hits. It was Jim's way of saying thank you, without actually having to utter the words. They would hunt him down and trap him, relishing in the power they had, and slowly drain the life out of him, egging each other on. Jim knew how to keep his men happy.

Jim regarded him through the mirror, concentrating on fixing his hair, "Yup."

"Why?" Sebastian implored, his dismay painfully obvious,

"Please, they hardly need you there, darling." Jim scoffed.

Well, fair enough, that was true. But Sebastian had been doing really well on all his assignments, performing with exemplary conduct; he never missed a hit. And despite usually having a bit of a problem taking orders from self-important pricks he never said no when Jim told him to pull the trigger. So it really did seem unreasonably cruel to suddenly slap him in the face and tell him he wasn't allowed to play with the other lads.

"And besides, I want you to come with me." Jim continued.

What? Sebastian froze. During the two years he'd worked for Jim he'd only been on about five, maybe six assignments with him. And even then he'd always been high up somewhere pointing his gun at whoever Jim was talking to. Only the high ranking men accompanied Jim to his meetings.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, _I want you to come with me_." Jim said it slowly and clearly as though talking to a stupid child, "You know, just in case something goes wrong. Brown was supposed to come but I don't like him anymore. I need someone I can trust."

"Umm… Okay. Great." Sebastian said, still a little dazed and wondering what had become of Brown since he was no longer liked.

Half an hour later Sebastian found himself standing in front of the full-length mirror by the door as Jim straightened his tie. "This'll do for now." he murmured, stroking his hands down the lapels. Sebastian hoped to god he couldn't feel his racing heartbeat through the thick fabric. "You should let me dress you more often."

And with that they left, letting the door slam shut behind them.


	4. Chapter 3

"Pass me the remote would you, pet." Jim drawled, gesturing towards the TV remote that lay on the coffee table, just out of his reach.

"You're nearer." Sebastian said monotonously, unable to tear his gaze from the shark documentary they were watching as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"Pass me the remote." Jim said, his tone more firm and demanding as he glared daggers at the sniper,

"You're nearer." Sebastian repeated through a mouthful of corn flakes.

"You know, Seb, if you weren't you, and you were talking to me like you are now, I'd have you kill you." Jim stated, his voice deadly toxic as leant forwards and snatched the remote off the table,

"I'll take that as a compliment." Sebastian grinned cheekily,

"Don't, it _wasn't _a compliment." Jim said, flicking through the channels.

"Oi, I was watching that!" Sebastian protested, shoving Jim in the ribs with his foot,

"This is exactly what I mean." Jim said, giving Sebastian a sharp thwack with the remote,

"Fuck you." Sebastian growled sulkily as the brunette found a dull programme about 16th century Britain.

Jim's phone beeped, feeling deprived of attention, and the brunette was quick to locate it.

"Why are women so keen to prattle on about themselves?" Jim asked, sounding as though the message bored him to death and passing his mobile over to Sebastian, "Reply to that."

Sebastian took the phone for him without any objections, curious to see what woman was texting Jim and why.

* * *

From: Sophie Ashfordly

To: James Moriarty

Subject: Return to London

Date: 3 November 13:58

Sir,

Once again I'd like to apologise for being absent for such a long period of time, I realise this is a terrible inconvenience for you and I thank you for being so understanding and patient. I'm glad to tell you that everything is going smoothly over here and I'll be done very soon.

I shall be back in the UK on the 8th and will be available to you immediately. I have a list of potential new employees for you to go over; I've narrowed it down to about six men, all of them capable and efficient, so you can pick and choose whomever you deem most suitable for your purposes. Also I'd like to talk to you about your little project in Korea as there have been a few changes and a couple of things need a slight tweaking. And of course I shall get started on searching for a new flat for Sebastian Moran as soon as possible so you shall have your flat back to yourself in no time at all.

Kind regards,

Sophie

* * *

"What do you want me to say, Sir?" Sebastian asked solemnly, his spirits a little dampened by the threat of his time with Jim coming to an end.

He didn't want to go back to living by himself. In a way it felt like he hadn't been here long enough, but at the same time it felt as though he'd lived here forever, and the thought of giving all this up made him suddenly hollow. He'd only just grown used to the hideous red painting hanging above the sofa. He'd only just grown accustomed to Jim's habit of buying expensive wine that tasted shit. He only just begun to tolerate the way Jim's phone would randomly go off at three in the morning. And could he really live without the late night dinners at fancy restaurants, the early morning breakfasts at quaint cafes, the long arguments about absolutely nothing, and the precious little chats about absolutely everything?

"Say whatever you like, just reply, she gets annoyed with me when I don't." Jim said, waving the remote at Sebastian to silence him as though the documentary was really all that interesting and the email was just that trivial.

* * *

From: James Moriarty

To: Sophie Ashfordly

Subject: RE: Return to London

Date: 3 November 14:05

No rush.

* * *

He pressed send and handed the phone back to Jim who simply dropped it on the side table without even looking at it.

They went back to watching the documentary in silence, letting the narrator drone on about the wondrous mysteries of the past.


	5. Chapter 4

"Heeyyy, tiger." Sebastian's eyes fluttered open lazily, his eyelids still feeling heavy and the blinding light giving him enough reason to let them close again. "Come on now, pet." Jim cooed, his delicate fingers, softer than Sebastian had expected, tilting his face up. He couldn't help but wonder whether Jim was like this with the other men when they got injured. Just the thought of it intensified his pain.

He was aching; the cold floor beneath him doing no favours to his sore body. He could feel his clothes sticking to his skin, the blood drying and congealing. It hurt to breathe. He was sure that with every breath he took his lungs pressed against his ribs, causing a sharp pain to course through his chest. He forced his eyes open once more, registering the hazy blur leaning over him. "There we go," Jim encouraged, the blur coming into focus just as a smile graced his lips. Sebastian tried to smile in return, but instead found himself wincing. "Easy now," Jim murmured softly, tenderly running his fingers along the blond's jawline and cupping his face.

He leaned into Jim's hands, feebly lifting his arms and grasping hold of Jim's lapels, his fingers clumsily gripping onto the thick fabric for dear life. Sebastian opened his mouth to talk, not sure what he wanted to say and suddenly aware of the metallic taste on his tongue. Jim made no objections and gave no comments about the price of his suit; rather he allowed Sebastian to pull him into an inelegant hug, the sniper's tense body loosen up as he melted into Jim's arms. A gentle smile tugged at the brunette's lips as Sebastian buried his face into the nook of his neck, his stubble scratchy against Jim's skin, blood staining his favourite jacket.

Sebastian breathed in Jim's scent. Woody cologne, citrusy shampoo and cigarette smoke. He didn't usually smoke. "M'sorry." He slurred throatily, as Jim pulled away. His head rolled forwards without the support of Jim's hands and he had to muster up what little strength he had left to look Jim in the eye, trying to meet his gaze. Jim had been under a lot of stress lately, the last thing he needed was for Sebastian to screw up his assignments.

"Hush now, dear. I don't want to hear any more of that." Jim's voice sounded velvety and Sebastian found himself wanting to touch it.

"Did I get him?" He asked huskily, ignoring his strange urge,

"Of course," Jim fondly stroked his hands across Sebastian's chest, "You always do." He said, interrupted by the sound of an obnoxiously loud metal clang. He tore himself away from Sebastian, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket just as three men appeared.

"Sir?" One of the men asked, curiously eyeing Jim's bloodied suit. Jim acknowledged them with a quick, dispassionate glance before fishing his phone out of his pocket and reading through a message that apparently demanded his full attention.

"Bring him downstairs. I'll have the car waiting." He instructed dryly, walking over to the door and vanishing down the stairs.

The men helped Sebastian to his feet, supporting him as they carefully made their way over to the door. He only recognised one of them, but then again Jim's men came and went; a lot of them seemed rather short-lived. He dearly hoped he wouldn't be one of the ones to go so soon. They made their way down the stairs, Sebastian feeling overwhelmingly lightheaded and needing an embarrassing amount of assistance, however the men were kind enough to keep their mouths shut.

Once they reached the car Sebastian was eased into his seat. Jim sat beside him phone in hand, his eyes darting over his body before returning to his mobile. "I've cancelled your next two hits." Sebastian's face fell. "It'll be interesting to see how our new boy performs under pressure. He's been dying to prove himself ever since I hired him."

"I can do it."

"Nonsense." Jim said, tossing his mobile onto the seat beside him and looking up at Sebastian. "Dear me, that's definitely going to leave a scar." He murmured, leaning over and caressing Sebastian's cheek.


	6. Chapter 5

They had started the New Year with a spectacular display of what would probably fall under the definition of cold-blooded, calculated murder (and something they could probably pass off as manslaughter since the knife had literally slipped out of his hands). It had been a thrilling night of blood and screams as one year turned into another and people at parties clinked their glasses together and cheered, oblivious to the horror that was going on just down the street.

Sebastian glanced over at Jim only to see that he'd dozed off. Of course. He smiled, rolling his eyes. Jim had been awake all last night corresponding with a potential client in Norway only to decide that it wasn't worth it. Sebastian had tried to stay up with him but had fallen asleep on the sofa watching a bizarre movie about people on a sinking ship. He'd woken up in the late hours of the morning to find Jim in exactly the same spot, bloodshot eyes glued to the computer screen, his fingers dancing over the keyboard and creating a strange staccato melody.

The street lamps cast an orange light into the car as it turned a corner, making Jim's skin look fluorescent yellow. He was slumped against the window in an awkward position that would no doubt result in a stiff neck.

"Jim." He whispered, his voice a low murmur to ensure there was no way their driver would hear. "Jim, we're almost home." He gently nudged the brunette, regretfully waking him up.

"S'bastian." Jim mumbled, not addressing the sniper but merely reassuring himself of the blond's presence. He sat up, taking in their surroundings and straightening his jacket. The car slowly drew to a standstill outside their flat and Jim automatically exited the vehicle without a word, leaving Sebastian to thank the driver before getting out and running a few steps to catch up with him.

The criminal stopped by the door, waiting for Sebastian to punch in the code and let him in. They rode up in the lift in total silence, listening to the elevator groan as it rose to the fifth floor.

"You alright, Boss?" Sebastian asked. Standing up seemed to require an extraordinary amount of effort from him and he looked as though he'd happily curl up in the corner of the lift and sleep there.

"Think I need a cup of coffee." Jim replied thickly.

The lift shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. Jim marched out, eager to get home and again waited by the door for Sebastian to unlock it for him, disappearing into the darkness of the flat as soon as it was open. Following Jim inside Sebastian shrugged off his coat, placing his bag by the wall before walking into the living room to find Jim curled up on the sofa staring at the television, the glaring pale light making ever appear cold.

"I'll go put the kettle on." Sebastian said, making his way into the kitchen. He rummaged around the cupboards for Jim's favourite biscuits since neither of them had eaten since lunch and it was far too late to start cooking anything, and returned to the living room only to find that Jim had fallen asleep.

He looked frightfully innocent when he slept; it was always hard to believe that he could be such a ruthless man.

Not an hour ago he'd been holding a gun to a man's head, his fingers sticky with blood and his eyes burning darkly. He'd been a pure embodiment of cruelty, radiating an infectious malice that affected Sebastian in the most glorious ways. Improvising with what he had at hand Sebastian had tied Kipling to the railing, the man's desperate pleas for mercy doing nothing to appease the brunette's rage. Jim had prolonged his death, his body fuelled by a fierce adrenaline high and the thrill of the kill getting to his head. He'd stood over the panicked figure, watching him bleed and enjoying every minute of it. Slowly draining him and letting the inky red liquid cover his hands he'd savagely carved his initials into his chest, savouring the pleasure of letting the knife sink into his soft skin and leaving vicious red letters in his flesh; revelling in the power he had over the man's life, Kipling's gargled shrieks of agony echoing around the empty building. Jim said it was to remind him where his loyalties lay, his shirt flecked with red, his hands dripping with blood as the man's life withered away beneath his fingers.

And Kipling had probably been the luckiest out of the four men who died that night. Sebastian shook his head, ridding his mind of the mental image and sat down next to crime lord's sleeping form. "Hey." He said softly, bumping his elbow against Jim's leg, "How about going to bed?"

Jim let out a meek groan in response, shifting away from Sebastian and letting his head fall against the armrest.

A wide grin spread across Sebastian's face. Jim Moriarty, the man whose mere name was enough to send dignified men running, was being irresistibly cute. Sebastian rose to his feet, leaning down and carefully scooping the dangerous criminal into his arms. "Come on then." Once again Jim protested with a feeble moan, nuzzling his face into Sebastian's chest as the sniper carried him over to his room.

Sebastian had never been in Jim's bedroom. He'd never exactly been forbidden from entering it or anything; just he'd never had a reason to go in there. Now he pushed the door open with his foot and stepped in, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The curtains were closed, the thick fabric shutting out any light, but he could make out the ornate headboard against the pale wall and the large wardrobe that housed Jim's expensive suits as well as his collection of old t-shirts.

He gently lowered Jim onto the bed, letting him sink into the soft mattress. The brunette shuffled into a more comfortable position, licking his lips and reaching out to grope the empty space beside him, but finding nothing there let his arm lay limp.

"Good night, Jim." Sebastian murmured, pulling the duvet over his sleeping form and padding softly out of the room.

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**A/N:** Sorry for the slight delay on this one I've been a bit busy. And also I'd just like to say thank you so much for all the positive feedback and reviews and stuff, it really means a lot to me!


	7. Chapter 6

Sebastian shoved the key into the lock, turning it until he heard it click, and pushed the door open, ash from the tip of his cigarette falling onto the carpet. He toed off his shoes and kicked the door shut, making sure to be careful with the grocery bags as there were eggs in one of them. "They didn't have that Tropicana orange juice so I got a different one." He said, walking into the living room only to find they had company.

Jim was his usual self, wearing a cardigan and jeans, and painfully contrasting the professional looking woman sat opposite him at the desk. She had dark brown hair gathered up into a tidy bun and wore a black figure hugging pencil dress; everything about her was neat and orderly and sophisticated. Sophie. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy that she knew his Jim too, the relaxed, at-home Jim.

Sebastian had obviously interrupted them and he was about to take his leave when Sophie rose to greet him.

"Sebastian," She said, standing up and smoothing her dress down, not that it really needed smoothing down, "It's so lovely to see you." She reached out her hand to shake his but drew it back upon registering the bags.

"Nice to see you too." He answered, feeling a little taken aback by her presence.

"Did you get those biscuits? The nice ones?" Jim asked,

"Yea- Yes, Sir." He quickly corrected himself, unsure as to whether it was appropriate for him to talk to his boss so casually. Sophie was courteous enough to pay no attention to his slip up, however he was certain he saw a smile flash across her face. "I'll just go and put these away." He said, excusing himself and marching into the kitchen.

"So, umm, yeah, like I was saying," Sophie continued their conversation as Sebastian began stacking cans of beans into the cupboard next to the whiskey, "Two of them have already gone to their new homes and the last one is being collected on Tuesday."

"Where are you keeping it until then?" Jim didn't sound very interested.

"_She_ is staying with Jessica. It's just for a few days so there shouldn't be any trouble."

"And you're having six more brought over on Wednesday?"

"Yes, they'll all be taken directly to their new families though."

"Well I hope that goes more smoothly that this did."

"I assure you it will, Sir. And I am incredibly sorry about how long this took, I'm very grateful to you for being so understanding."

"Mmm, this was an exception though. Don't get used to it, dear."

"Oh, speaking of exceptions." There was a rustling of papers. "We can have Moran out of your flat by next week. There's a place in Fulham going for just over £900 a month." No. Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks, holding a packet of pasta halfway between the cupboard and the counter.

"I see."

"It's within our budget and in a good location, relatively close to the centre and all."

"Yes."

"Do you not like it, Sir?"

"I do, I do, it looks positively _charming_."

"Okay, lovely, in that case I'll have him out of your hair by next Friday." Sophie said everything with such a sense of finality. Sebastian's heart sunk as he placed the pasta onto the shelf and continued emptying the shopping bags. He should probably stock the cupboards up before he left. Jim was hopeless at food shopping.

"Lovely." Jim mimicked her light tone,

"Well, if that's everything I should get going. I'll send you the balance sheets by email and have someone take care of Patterson."

"Wonderful."

"Good bye, Sir."

"Good bye, Sophie."

Sebastian waited for the door to shut before venturing back into the living room. He cleared a little space on the coffee table and set down a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea for Jim, sitting awkwardly beside him and sipping his own tea. Jim changed the channel to a programme about the life cycle of butterflies that neither of them watched.


	8. Chapter 7

Sebastian hated hospitals. Loathed them in fact. He strode down the sterile corridor searching for the right door, exchanging a quick word with a nurse passing by and bursting in unannounced. A sickening feeling clouded over his temper as he took in the sight of Jim, fresh out of surgery and hooked up to various machines; tubes and wires piercing his skin and sticking to his body. He looked so small, dwarfed by the large hospital bed and Sebastian was afraid it would swallow him up.

"Jim?" He asked, his worry seeping into his tone as the colour drained from his face,

"Mmnh." Jim murmured, opening his eyes and turning to look at the sniper, his voice so soft it was barely audible. Sebastian was at his side in a split second, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and sandwiching Jim's cold hand between his. "Hurts." Jim concluded after a frustrated pause.

"You've just been _shot_, of course it fucking hurts." He didn't mean to sound so angry, but despite being relieved that Jim was okay he couldn't help but feel annoyed at him.

"_Whe_- My _phone_?" Jim asked, confused and drowsy, the morphine numbing his mind,

"It's on the table." Sebastian said, not quite sure what Jim was asking.

"Sebastian?" Jim startled the blond by abruptly moving towards him, his voice strained with _lazy_ bewilderment.

"Whoa, Jim, calm down." Sebastian stammered, acutely aware of how close Jim was getting, "You need to rest."

"Se… Sebastian, I'm- I..." Jim said, sounding surprised by the weight of the words, agitatedly studying the blond with wide eyes full of distress,

"Are you gonna throw up?" Sebastian asked cautiously, brushing off Jim's strange behaviour and putting it all down to the morphine without letting it get to him.

"No. I'm fine. It's all-" He stated exasperatedly, struggling to interpret his thoughts into words, "Stay." He said, his tone more deliberate and decisive, yet still he simply let the word trail off, the meaning hanging thickly in the air of what little space there was between them.

"It's okay, the nurse said I can stay until you're well enough to leave." Sebastian said, not quite following,

Jim simply stared; his frustration palpable as he desperately stared at the gunman's face. Sebastian waited, silently urging Jim to speak. They sat like that for a moment, letting the machines whir and beep quietly in the corner. Sebastian could feel Jim's breath against his lips, the ruffle of air distracting his mind as he tried to grasp what all the fuss was about.

"I want you to stay." Jim's voice was quiet and deliberate, and he sounded unusually sincere.

Oh. Sebastian was completely taken aback by what sounded like an honest confession.

The brunette tentatively leant forwards; moving more fervently than usual and Sebastian felt his body go rigid, "No. Jim." He warned, placing a firm hand on the brunette's arm as he tilted his head. Sebastian breathed in the heady scent of woody cologne, the familiar smell making his brain go fuzzy. His breath hitched in his throat as Jim's lips brushed ever so delicately against his, gently pressing against his mouth, chaste and hesitant. The light pressure caused Sebastian's heart to go wild, his pulse accelerating and leaving him completely and utterly overwhelmed.

Shocked at the realisation of what was happening Sebastian planted his hands against Jim's shoulders firmly pushing him away. He held him at arm's length for a moment before loosening up and letting Jim fall forwards, pressing their foreheads together. His breath was ragged, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears as he resisted unwelcome urges.

"Stay." Jim breathed huskily

"I'll stay."

The next day they walked out of the hospital towards the familiar black car. Jim decided that he was well enough to leave hospital and that Sebastian should drive and therefore their designated driver was ditched at the hospital and left to explain Jim's sudden disappearance. As they drove they listened to the quiet babbling of the radio and hustle and bustle of London life. Neither of them mentioned the kiss, and to be honest Sebastian wasn't even sure whether Jim even remembered it. But something had definitely shifted between them.

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**A/N:** Wow I'm so sorry it took me so long to update D: I'm not even gonna bother trying to make excuses I mean yes I've been busy and stuff but just no. Anyhow I will definitely update soon and again, sorry for the ridiculous delay with this chapter.


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